Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jisung is in his happy place.

He smoked with Minho before the party, just enough to make him floaty and relaxed. He’s had two beers since then over the past few hours, just to keep that feeling going, and he’s good. He’s comfortable and warm, so warm, where he’s pressed against Minho on the couch. The conversation happening around them filters in and out of his head peacefully; a constant buzz of background noise that Jisung doesn’t feel like he needs to focus on or even understand.

It’s rare for his brain to feel so detached, and he loves it. He wishes he could grab onto that feeling and keep it bottled for whenever he needs it.

He also loves how Minho has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers plucking at the fabric of his shirt near his collarbone, causing goosebumps to rise over his skin in an endless, repetitive cycle. Him and Minho have always had the sort of friendship that’s maybe a tad too touchy-feely (in a multitude of ways), but at this particular moment, Jisung doesn’t overthink it, just appreciates it. Minho has nice hands. Soft. Small. Perfect.

“You okay, bug?” Minho asks, his voice a deep rumble against Jisung’s ear, and he swears he can feel it in his chest.

Jisung hums an affirmative, rubbing his cheek against Minho’s shoulder, loving the sensation of fabric against his skin. “‘M great.”

Minho laughs, arm dropping to curl around his waist. Warm warm warm. “Here.” He’s shifting, and then nudging at Jisung to sit up, ignoring his complaints. “Eat some food, okay?”

Jisung blinks at the piece of pizza that Minho is holding out to him. It smells good. Oh. He is hungry. He opens his mouth and turns his gaze to Minho, who blinks back twice - quickly, so cute - before moving the pizza closer so Jisung can take a bite. He eats the entire slice that way, with Minho holding it for him, and when he’s at the final piece of crust, Minho holds it in a way where Jisung has no choice but to bite at his fingers, just a little.

“Messy,” Minho murmurs, wiping at the corner of Jisung’s mouth with his thumb. He glares when Jisung snaps his teeth, pretending to purposefully try and bite him this time.

“Are you two done being gross over there, or should we all go and leave you to it?”

Jisung turns to glance over at Seungmin, who is shooting them an unimpressed look. “Don’t be jealous of our friendship, Minnie.”

“Is that what it is?” Seungmin asks, but Changbin, who is sitting beside him, nudges him with his shoulder, a clear signal to drop it. If Jisung weren’t still so floaty, he’d probably overanalyze that until his head spun. But instead he forgets about it a second later, and simply smiles at Seungmin. “Fine. We want to play truth or dare. Are you two in?”

Minho shrugs, the movement jostling Jisung slightly. “As long as it doesn’t end in someone stripping this time.”

Jisung giggles, remembering the strip tease Changbin had done the last time they played a few months ago, which had reduced them all to tears (some of laughter, some of horror). They had all teased him relentlessly about it the next morning, but Changbin had brushed it off with unusual ease. It wasn’t until Seungmin announced they were dating a few days later that Jisung connected the dots. Clearly, Seungmin had enjoyed it more than the rest of them.

“That’s a private activity now,” Changbin says, pinching Seungmin’s cheek and grinning when the man slaps at his hand. “All right, Felix, kick us off. Truth or dare?” 

Felix, who is sitting on Jisung’s other side, hums. “Truth.”

“What would you describe as your type? In a partner?”

Felix’s eyes dart over to where Chan is sitting so fast that Jisung almost misses it. But he easily spots the flush of pink spreading across his friend’s face.

“Oh. Well. A man, to start. And, uhm, big. Like, strong. Arms are… I like broad shoulders. And someone with a nice laugh. And who’s kind. And…and with soft lips! I-” He cuts off suddenly, entire face a bright red now that Jisung wonders if only he can see.

Jisung peeks over at Chan, eager to see his reaction to Felix’s words. The man’s head is ducked down, making it difficult for Jisung to catch his full expression. But he spots the smile tugging at his mouth and snorts. They’re definitely hooking up later. Which would be amazing, because Jisung isn’t sure how much longer he can take the tension between them. It’s been years of dancing around it and seeing other people and being so dumb.

He nudges at Minho, wondering if he’s noticing what’s happening, too.

“Behave,” Minho tells him quietly, but Jisung can hear the smile in his voice. It’s one of their favorite topics to gossip about, so he knows that Minho is paying attention to it just as much as he is.

“Anyway,” Felix continues. “Uh…Jeongin! Truth or dare?”

Jeongin chooses dare, and there’s a stretch of chaos as they all watch Jeongin attempt to belly dance, and then Seungmin is dared to fit as many giant marshmallows into his mouth as he can, which Changbin puts an end to after he gets to five.

It isn’t until Seungmin is saying his name that Jisung fully tunes back in.

“Truth,” is his answer, feeling far too comfortable to get up to attempt any kind of dare.

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

Jisung glares at his friend, who also happens to be his roommate, so he knows that Seungmin knows the answer. “Asshole,” he mutters. “You know it’s been months. Since Jungwoo dumped me.” Two months, to be exact. They’d only been together for a year, but it had been Jisung’s longest relationship, and he’d been far too mopey and self-conscious afterwards to try and pursue anyone else. Especially since he’d thought everything had been going so well, with them even having plans to move in together.

Seungmin holds up his hands. “I’m not pressing my ear against the wall to listen at all hours of the night. Just wanted to see if you had anyone new on your radar.” Seungmin has this look, almost mischievous, but again Changbin nudges him, and Seungmin rolls his eyes.

Desperate to change the topic, Jisung sets his attention on Hyunjin, who is curled up across from him with a mostly empty drink in hand. “Hyunjin, truth or dare?”

“Oh. Hm. Truth!”

“Who’s the best lay you’ve ever had?” he asks, grinning when everyone “ooo’s” around them. He wriggles back against Minho, who has tensed up behind him, excited to hear the answer. Hyunjin always had the best hookup stories, and as someone who doesn’t particularly enjoy sleeping with people he isn’t dating, Jisung likes to live vicariously through his friend.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Hyunjin says, snapping his fingers. “Minho.”

The room erupts.

Changbin groans and slaps a hand to his face, as if wishing he could unhear Hyunjin’s answer. Jeongin’s mouth drops open in utter shock. Chan is just shaking his head over and over. Seungmin and Felix, however, are both peering over at Jisung.

And Jisung is hoping he’s still smiling, still looking like he’s enjoying himself. Because in reality, his brain has sparked back to life in such a jarring manner that his head is spinning with it.

“It’s like hearing your kids fucked,” Chan mutters, and Hyunjin reaches over to slap him on the shoulder.

“No, it is not like that at all! Don’t be gross!”

“When did this even happen?”

“Mmm, I don’t know. A couple months ago now, maybe? Four months? Right?” Hyunjin turns to Minho for confirmation.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Jisung also turns to look at Minho, his brain still rushing to catch up to the conversation. But Minho isn’t looking at him, or any of them. He’s just picking at the fabric of his jeans instead. Almost disinterested. As if he doesn’t know that this information has almost spurred Jisung into a full-blown freak out.

Four months ago. Almost half a year. And Minho had never said anything. Never told him. Why? They tell each other everything!

“Did you guys date?” Jisung asks, almost hating himself for even putting the question out there, because he isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

Now Minho looks at him. “No,” he tells him. “It wasn't like that.”

“And it was just a few times,” Hyunjin chimes in, and Jisung whirls around to look at him again.

A few times? As in more than once?

“He was lonely!” Hyunjin defends, looking around at all of them, and God, Jisung really wishes he would stop talking now. “And what are friends for?”

“Casual fucks, apparently,” Seungmin quips, and then his eyes go wide, and he’s sitting up straighter, pointing a finger at Hyunjin, and then Minho. “Wait! Minho, truth! Is it true that you’ve still never come from a blow job?”

Another standout piece of information from their last game of Truth or Dare.

Hyunjin straightens with a screech, face red. “Why would you shame me like that!”

“It’s not even your turn to ask,” Minho says, and he still sounds so bored. “And I didn’t agree to answer.”

“You have to!” Seungmin argues. “Come on, come on, come on!”

“Jesus, yes, it’s still true.”

Hyunjin groans and flops back onto the couch. “Not for my lack of trying! He has superhuman stamina or something.”

“That or your head game sucks.”

“It does not! And he’s slept with other people, not just me! None of them could do it.”

“I bet I could do it.”

Seven heads swivel in his direction simultaneously, and Jisung realizes too late that he had said the words out loud.

He has never wished to self-combust more than he does right at that moment. Embarrassment prickles down his arms, all the way to his toes, and he squirms, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Oh my god,” Seungmin says, sounding weirdly (and creepily) excited. “Wait.” His gaze is almost manic. “I dare you. I-”

“That’s enough.”

Jisung jolts at the harshness of Minho’s voice, but he physically cannot bring himself to look over at him, despite the fact that they’re still pressed together on the couch. He feels like he just yelled at him, not Seungmin. His face is burning, and he’s worried that if he makes eye contact with anyone, he’ll start crying, which would be even more fucking embarrassing. So he just sits there with his face turned down, wondering if it would be better to get up and leave or just push past the moment.

“Let’s do something else,” Chan says a beat later, the tone in his voice forcefully cheery. God, Jisung loves Chan. He always knows what to say. “Uh. Mario Kart? Let’s play a few rounds. Anyone want more snacks or drinks?”

People shout out various answers and requests, but everything is just a buzz of white noise in Jisung’s ears - no longer comforting. Everything feels harsh, even Minho’s hand, pressing tighter against his hip.

“Jisung? Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a dumb game.”

Dumb. Dumb. He feels so dumb. And he’s not really even sure why. Well, for what he just said, of course, but he was feeling weird before that. He needs time travel to exist so he can go back and stop himself from asking Hyunjin that question. He wants to forget.

“Jisung?”

He finally looks at Minho, and when their eyes connect, there’s no judgment or even a hint of teasing in his gaze, and Jisung is grateful, feels his pulse slow just a little. “Sorry,” he whispers, just for the two of them. “That was…it was weird to say that.”

Minho only smiles. “Nah. Loved the confidence.” That startles a laugh out of Jisung, and Minho’s smile grows, his expression shifting from concern to an almost smug satisfaction. Jisung is always accusing him of enjoying getting a reaction out of Jisung a little too much.

“Hyung! You can’t say things like that!”

“Me? You’re the one who just said you'd-”

Jisung shoves at him before he can finish, making them both laugh, and suddenly, just like that, Jisung feels better. Out of all his friends, Minho is the only one who can get Jisung to come back to himself so quickly. He snuggles into Minho without any sense of self-consciousness, shaking his head when Felix offers him a controller. He’s more than content to sit back and watch their friends play.

Surprisingly, it’s Jeongin who gets the most competitive during video games, followed closely by Felix. So with both of them playing, along with Chan and Hyunjin, the room is full of jeering and shouting, as well as peals of laughter from Changbin and Seungmin.

Jisung finds himself laughing too, but he’s also hyperaware of how quiet Minho is behind him. He checks on him once to find the man seemingly staring off into space, mouth pulled into a frown. When Jisung nudges him, he quickly smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and that weird feeling from before starts to creep back over Jisung.

Is Minho actually weirded out by what Jisung said? Was he just being nice before? Whenever he’s had an issue with something Jisung has said or done in the past, he always tells him when they’re in private. So maybe that’s what he’s thinking about; what he’ll say to Jisung later once they’re alone. He’ll probably tell Jisung that he crossed a boundary; that yes, they hug and kiss each other on the cheek and cuddle, but that comment was too far.

Jisung knows Minho isn’t interested in him that way. He never wants to hear about Jisung’s dates or his sex life (or current lack thereof), always getting uncomfortable or changing the topic almost immediately when Jisung tries to talk about it. And fine. That’s fine. Jisung has gotten over the crush he had on Minho when they first met almost five years ago, too shy to ever attempt to ask him out. Or, well...gotten over it is maybe too optimistic of a way to put it. But he’s at peace with how things have turned out and has accepted that Minho just doesn’t see him like that. He's not going to push it.

But apparently, he has no issue seeing Hyunjin that way.

Jisung peers over at Hyunjin, taking in his long hair and his sharp, angular features. Pretty. Hyunjin is pretty. And hot. And mysterious. Jisung doesn’t think he’s any of those things, so of course Minho isn’t interested. How can he compete with Hyunjin of all people? He’s perfect.

And Jisung is just... Jisung.

Stomach twisting, Jisung shifts, pulling away from Minho to try and take a deep breath. Suddenly, he’s too warm, too conscious of the way his clothes feel against his body. His heart is beating an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest.

“Bug? You okay?”

Jisung jolts when a hand brushes over his back, and when he turns, Minho is staring at him with concern again. “I…sorry. I’m…my stomach hurts. Too much pizza.” He tries for a smile. “I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.”

“Use my room,” Minho tells him. “Do you want me to come?”

Guilt rises inside him quickly at the idea of Minho leaving the party early just to babysit him, when Jisung doesn’t even understand what’s wrong with him. “No, stay. I’m just gonna power nap it off.”

“You sure?”

Jisung nods. “I’m fine, hyung.” He doesn’t want anyone to make a big deal of this. He just needs to be alone for a bit. “Just let everyone know I was tired, if they ask, okay?”

Minho is opening his mouth to say something else, still looking concerned, but Jisung hurries away before he can say anything, practically jumping up the stairs to Minho’s room.

Once he’s inside, he all but collapses against the closed door, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the wood. “Get a hold of yourself, Han,” he mutters to himself. “What’s even wrong with you?” He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and it’s driving him crazy.

So what if Minho finds Hyunjin attractive? So what if they slept together? So what if Minho didn’t tell him? So what? Nothing has changed. Nothing is different. Minho is still Minho. And Jisung is still Jisung. And they’re still…them.

Jisung takes a deep breath, flattening his palms against the door as he tries to ground himself. Every muscle in his body feels weak and shaky, almost similar to the way they feel after a panic attack. And no, no. He is not having a panic attack because of Minho and Hyunjin. He is not that pathetic.

Taking another deep breath, Jisung pushes himself away from the door and faces the room. He really should lie down and try to nap this off. But before he can climb onto the bed, he notices the curtain behind Minho’s desk fluttering. They’d left the window open when they’d smoked. Jisung shuts it, shivering a little when the wind hits him.

He shuffles to Minho’s closet, hating that he hesitates a moment before grabbing a sweatshirt and throwing it over his head. Minho lets him borrow his clothes all the time. He won’t mind.

Maybe he lets Hyunjin borrow his clothes, too.

Scowling at the thought, Jisung turns and climbs onto the bed, throwing the covers over himself. A blanket cocoon will fix him, will stop the rapid succession of thoughts running through his brain at a dizzying pace.

What if Minho does like Hyunjin? What if it is all more than a few casual fucks between friends? Jisung doesn’t know why that thought makes him feel sick, but it does. Maybe it’s cause Minho has never really dated anyone before. He’s always done casual hookups. So Jisung has always had him to himself, has never really worried about him dating anyone seriously. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t like the idea of having to share Minho with someone. Maybe it’s the idea of Minho having someone more important than Jisung in his life.

Jisung huffs, frustrated that he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He knows he’s catastrophising, but he can’t stop. Would Hyunjin make Minho stop hanging out with Jisung as much? Would he ask Minho to not be so touchy with Jisung? Would he want them to set boundaries?

That’s what Jungwoo had wanted. That’s what had broken them up, even though Jisung swore that there was nothing between them, that Minho didn’t like Jisung like that.

But do you like him? Jungwoo had asked, and Jisung had hesitated too long with an answer.

Jisung swipes at his eyes, feeling stupid. He never told Minho about that. Never told anyone. He’d been too embarrassed, so he just made something up about Jungwoo and him wanting different things. How could he explain that he got dumped for a crush he knows will never lead to anything?

Sniffing, Jisung pulls his phone out, hesitating a moment before going to Hyunjin’s Instagram profile. He slowly starts to scroll through the posts, keeping an eye on the dates. He said he started sleeping with Minho around 4 months ago, and Jisung wonders if there are any clues. Luckily for him, Hyunjin is one of those people who makes a commemorative post for each month.

So he scrolls to the post for April, when it all would have started, and swipes through the pictures. A lot of selfies, some scenery pics, then - ah. One of him and Minho at a coffee shop, Minho flipping off the camera while Hyunjin laughs next to him.

May, next. Another one of them together, this time in their house, Minho sprawled on the floor in a sun spot while Hyunjin rests his feet on his back.

June includes a picture of Minho sleeping in class, his mouth open against his arm where its curled on top of the desk. Jisung checks the comments. A simple “die” showing up from Minho’s account that would normally make him laugh.

There’s nothing from July or August.

Stomach twisting, Jisung goes to Minho’s profile next. His last post is from August, a few close-up pictures of pudding, a terrifying close-up of his face, and then a very unflattering close-up of Jisung mid-sneeze. The caption reads, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

Smiling slightly, Jisung goes to the next post from June. All the pictures are of his Japan trip, Hyunjin nowhere in sight. Then it’s April, all pictures of his cats. Jisung doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse that Hyunjin isn’t featured in any of Minho’s posts. Does that just mean he was trying to keep it a secret? Or maybe it was just casual, so he didn’t feel the need to post anything?

Ugh.

Jisung presses his face to the pillow and shuts his eyes, trying and failing to get his thoughts to just slow down a little. He should just ask Minho. He knows that. But he’s scared of the possible answer he could get. He still feels too off balance about the whole thing. He wants more time to prepare himself. He- 

The creak of the floorboards outside causes Jisung to jump, and he shoves the blankets off his head, turning slightly to look over his shoulder just in time to see Minho cracking the door open slowly.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Jisung shakes his head, rolling fully onto his side. “I was awake. And I should be apologizing for taking over your room.”

“I don’t mind. I brought tea.” Minho holds out the mug in his hand, and Jisung sits with a grunt to take it. “Ginger, for your stomach. Do you feel better?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” He knows that Minho hates when he lies, but he can’t exactly admit to having an anxiety spiral all because he found out Minho slept with Hyunjin and now can’t stop thinking about it. And that he just stalked their social media for clues.  “Thanks for the tea.”

Minho simply hums, moving further into the room. “Stay the night,” he says as he starts to rummage through his closet. “It’s late, and dark, and you don’t feel good.”

“Are you sure?” Jisung asks, even though he really wants to stay. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You never bother me.”

Jisung’s stomach flips, and he smiles as he sips at his tea. “I’m gonna remind you that you said that the next time you call me annoying.”

Minho laughs, turning to peer over at Jisung with a smirk. “Bothering me and being annoying are two separate skills. Oh.” He points at him. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

Jisung’s face heats, and he tries to hide behind his mug. “Sorry. I was cold and-”

“What are you apologizing for? I was just going to give you one anyway.” He shucks his shirt off, pulling on another sweatshirt before pulling a pair of sweatpants on next. “Want to watch anime? Frieren? We’re almost caught up with that one, right?”

Jisung hums. “Can we do a documentary instead?” He’s not sure he’ll be able to follow along with an actual plot, his brain feeling like mush.

“The nature one? About the sea anemones?”

Jisung nods, and he shifts on the bed to make room for Minho. “Did everyone go home?” He hopes Minho didn’t leave the party early on his account.

“Yeah. You can only watch Felix lose at Mario Kart so many times before it stops being funny. But Chan offered to walk him home, so, I guess he doesn’t mind hooking up with a loser.”

Jisung snorts, and he shoves at Minho as he climbs onto the bed with his laptop, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Jisung. “Do you think they actually will? Hook up, I mean?”

Minho shrugs, opening Netflix. “For their sanity, I hope so. For mine…I could do without hearing Chan wax any more poetics about Felix. People in love is sickening.”

The documentary starts up, and Jisung sips at his tea, tries to pay attention. But the topic has already kind of come up, and, well…

“Hyung?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…” Jisung pauses a moment, weighs the words on his tongue first, before continuing. “Do you like Hyunjin?”

Minho doesn’t respond right away. But then his hand that isn’t wrapped around Jisung’s shoulder moves, hitting pause on his laptop, and with no other sound in the background, his resulting sigh is loud between them. “Is that what’s been bothering you all night?”

Embarrassed, Jisung hides his face against Minho’s shoulder. How is it that he always reads him so easily? “It’s not…I’m just curious. You didn’t tell me about it, so I thought…well, maybe you have a crush or something and that’s why.”

“It was casual.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” He hates how whiny he sounds, but he can’t help it. And Minho doesn’t judge him for it, just sighs again and rubs slowly at his back.

“It…I don’t know, Sung. You had been dating Jungwoo for a while. You were talking about moving in with him. And I guess I felt like telling you would overshadow that or something. But at the same time, it wasn’t a big deal, so I just didn’t think it was something I needed to tell. And then you were going through your breakup, so it didn’t really seem like a good time to bring it up then, either. Does that make sense?”

Jisung worries at his lower lip, mulling over the information. He can totally see Minho keeping something from him so as not to steal Jisung’s thunder. Or to not seem like he was bragging. It’s sweet. Minho is sweet. And maybe Jisung is just blowing all of this out of proportion. Maybe he’s making this A Thing when it’s not a big deal at all. Maybe he needs to just get over it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs after a beat. “That makes sense. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Minho tells him. His hand lifts, ruffling Jisung’s hair. “Stop overthinking. I promise that next time I sleep with Hyunjin, I’ll give you every detail.” He laughs when Jisung fake gags at that.

“Please don’t,” he mutters, and he shivers slightly when Minho’s fingers brush over the nape of his neck. “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Minho prompts.

“Sleep with Hyunjin again?” Jisung regrets the question almost immediately. Because he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. He's never even met any of Minho's hookups before. He feels so weird knowing that him and Hyunjin fucked in the past, he's not sure how he'd feel if they were still fucking in the present. But he does know that it's really not any of his business, but he can't stop himself from asking. 

“I…” Minho starts and stops, and Jisung holds his breath. “No. I wouldn’t, but…” Minho shifts, sighing again. “Don’t go gossiping with everyone about this, okay? Not because it wasn’t…you know, good, but it just…. He was open to it being a casual, long-term thing. But I like Hyunjin a lot as a person, and we live together, so I didn’t want to let anything mess up our friendship. It never ends well, sleeping with friends, so we decided it wasn’t going to be an ongoing thing.”

Jisung’s brain immediately latches onto the new information that Hyunjin wanted to keep sleeping with Minho, and he spends the next few moments trying to tell himself he has no right to feel the surge of anger towards Hyunjin that rises up in him. He tries to busy himself by taking another sip of his tea to buy him some time to relax, but his tea has started to go cold. So he sets it down, and then turns back to Minho.

“Do you think Hyunjin is hot?”

“I think all of our friends are hot.”

“Oh.”

Minho snorts, and then pokes Jisung in the cheek. “You’re the cutest, though.”

“Is he your type?” he asks, and Minho frowns, his gaze turning a bit more assessing.

“He’s not not my type.”

“And what’s your type?”

“Why all the questions, bug?”

Jisung blushes, avoiding eye contact. “I just…I want to know. You…I don’t like not knowing things about you, that’s all. I want to know everything. You're my best friend.” He fiddles with the blanket on his lap, embarrassed at the confession. But Minho just throws his arm around Jisung again and pulls him down until Jisung is half laying on top of him.

“You say the sweetest things. It makes me ill. Now, let's stop interrogating hyung and watch our little show.”

Jisung grumbles into Minho’s shirt, but he doesn’t argue when he hits play on the laptop, the documentary resuming. They watch in silence, and it doesn’t take long for Minho to start playing with Jisung’s hair, twisting strands around his finger. It’s not an unusual thing for them, nor is Jisung being sprawled on top of him, but his brain isn’t cooperating with him today, and Jisung can’t stop thinking about how warm Minho is, how good he smells. He can’t stop thinking about…

“Hyung?”

“Watch the show, bug.”

Jisung ignores him. “Have you really never come from a blow job before?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

Jisung shrugs. “Do you not like them?”

Minho laughs. “Of course I like them. It’s not like I’d ever say no to one, I’m not crazy.  They just…don’t get me there.”

Jisung hums, mulling that information over, and then -

“Hyung?”

“Jisung, just-”

“Can I try?” He asks the question quickly. Hopefully casually. He doesn’t want Minho to know how nervous he actually is. That he’ll say no. That he’ll say yes. Jisung doesn’t know what he wants. Just knows he had to ask.

This time, Minho doesn’t pause the show. Just shifts so that he’s peering down at Jisung with a slightly bewildered expression. “Can you try…giving me a blow job?”

Jisung nods, biting at the inside of his cheek. When Minho doesn’t move away or laugh in his face, a sliver of confidence works its way through Jisung. He presses slightly closer. “I’m good at them,” he says, and Minho blinks at him in one slow movement.

“At blow jobs?” he asks, and that question is slow, too, as if he’s having trouble keeping up. When Jisung nods, he does laugh, but it’s not a mean or teasing sound. “Jisung, are you being serious?”

“What?” Jisung pouts. “You think I’m not good at them?”

“No! Or, wait, I mean - ” Minho laughs again, shaking his head. “This feels like a trap.”

Jisung offers up a smile, but he also places a hand on Minho’s thigh. “Hyung, I’m being serious. Can I try?” He can literally see the switch flip in Minho’s brain, because the man grows serious, eyes boring into Jisung’s in a way that makes Jisung squirm.

“Bug,” Minho murmurs. “You…why?”

“Because I think I can do it,” Jisung answers. And he’s not lying. He really does. It’s just not the whole truth. He wants to be better than Hyunjin. Wants to prove that he can give Minho something no one else can. “And I want to make you feel good. Please?” He feels Minho tense beneath him, hears his inhale. “Hyung? Please?”

“Jesus,” Minho breathes. “I don’t…we smoked earlier, Jisung, I don’t-”

“That was hours ago. I’m not high, Minho. You’re not taking advantage. I want to blow you. Unless…do you not want to?”

Minho laughs again, but this time it’s more breathless, more high-pitched. His nervous laugh. “I didn’t say that. I just…” He reaches for Jisung, fingers on his chin so that he can tilt his head up, making it easier to maintain eye contact. “ You were really embarrassed when you said it earlier tonight. So I just... are you sure?” 

Jisung nods, no hesitation, and the movement causes Minho’s thumb to brush against his lips. He catches the way Minho’s eyes track the movement, and his stomach swoops. He repeats the motion, ducking his head so that his lower lip drags across Minho’s thumb. He thinks of earlier that night, Minho feeding him pizza. How his fingers felt against his teeth. What would they be like on his tongue?

He decides to find out.

Minho’s inhale is loud when Jisung takes his thumb into his mouth, teeth scraping over skin before he ducks down further, closing his lips around the entire digit, sucking gently.

“Jisung,” Minho breathes out, and his eyes are wide when Jisung glances up at him. “You really…” He cuts off quickly when Jisung just barely bobs his head. “Fuck. You-” He cuts off again when Jisung pulls off his thumb with a pop, and when they make eye contact, Minho’s lips are parted, his pupils dark.

“Hyung?” Jisung prompts, jittery with anticipation. “Can I?” He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Minho says no. Go back to cuddling and watching the documentary? After sucking Minho’s thumb? And basically begging to get him off? More likely he’ll self-combust from embarrassment and never be able to face his best friend again. He’ll have to go into hiding. He’ll-

Jisung is jolted out of his racing thoughts by the feeling of Minoh’s thumb pressing against his lower lip before moving to his chin, smearing spit across Jisung’s skin.

“You really want to do this?”

When Jisung nods immediately, Minho curses under his breath again and then shifts, shoving his laptop off his legs and moving until they’re both sitting up on the bed, facing each other.

“How…” Minho pauses, licking his lips, and Jisung thinks this is the most nervous he’s ever seen him. “How do you want to…?”

Jisung’s hands shake, but he places them on Minho’s thighs anyway. “Lie down. Let me take care of you.” He nudges at him gently, swallowing hard when Minho leans back, eyes never leaving Jisung’s. And then he waits.

Waits for Jisung to do something. Because, right. He should be doing something.

Jisung swallows again, flicking his eyes down to the long expanse of Minho’s legs. He grips the fabric of his sweatpants for a moment, tracking the way they tighten over his thighs. Minho has always had great thighs. Firm. Strong. Jisung parts them, shuffles between them, and then lowers himself down, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Jisung…”

He glances up, stomach fluttering at the way Minho is peering down at him, mouth parted, his teeth peeking out. “Just relax, hyung. I want to do this, okay?” He waits for Minho to nod, and then directs his attention downward again.

The sweatpants don’t leave much to the imagination, and Jisung can see clearly where Minho is half hard against his thigh. Before he can overthink it, Jisung leans forward and brushes his lips over the length of Minho, shivering when it elicits a soft groan from above him. Eager for another reaction, Jisung mouths at Minho with more intent, the fabric quickly becoming damp beneath him. And when Jisung flattens his tongue and licks, Minho’s hips jerk.

“Fuck. Jisung…” He sounds breathless already, and Jisung can see his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bedsheets.

Emboldened, Jisung nuzzles against the outline of his dick, mapping out the size of it now that Minho is almost fully hard. Big. He drags his mouth up to the tip, licks a broad stripe there before sucking against the fabric.

Minho’s hands fly to his hair, pushing him down for a moment before releasing him. “Fuck, sorry, I-”

Jisung lifts his head, catches Minho’s eye. “It’s fine. Good, actually. You can…you can do that.” He moves his own hands to the waistband of Minho’s sweatpants, eager to continue, to show Minho that everything is okay. If they pause now, Jisung thinks he'll chicken out, too embarrassed.

Minho stares at him for a beat, but then he lifts his hips, giving Jisung the room to pull his sweatpants down his legs.

Jisung swallows as more and more skin is revealed to him. Minho’s thighs are pale. Muscled. Strong. Jisung wants to bite them. Dig his teeth in. But that’s not what this is about. He needs to focus.

Minho’s dick is, as he suspected, big. It twitches under his gaze, red and heavy where it rests against Minho’s stomach. Jisung’s mouth fills with spit, and he uses it to his advantage, leaning over Minho and letting it drip down onto the head.

“Jesus,” Minho breathes out, watching with wide eyes. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

Jisung laughs. “I’ve barely even done anything.” But he knows what Minho means. His brain seems to have only one thought on repeat. I’m touching Minho’s dick.

Minho’s answering laugh is high-pitched, and his head thunks back against the pillow when Jisung’s fingers circle around him. “Fuck.”

“Have you ever considered,” Jisung starts as he spreads his spit down Minho’s length in slow strokes, “that no one has been able to get you off with a blow job because your dick is, frankly, insane?” Is that a weird thing to say to your friend? Probably. But it’s even weirder to have your hand on your friend’s dick, so, does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?

Minho simply snorts. “Backing down from the challenge already?”

Jisung narrows his eyes, and instead of giving a response, he bends down and takes the head of Minho’s dick into his mouth. 

He goes slow, keeps his attention on the tip, and when his tongue flutters around it, he can feel Minho tense up beneath him, can hear the stuttered inhale that follows. He pulls off to drag his lips down the entire length of him, head starting to go a little fuzzy. And when he flattens his tongue against the base of Minho’s dick, causing Minho to moan, Jisung’s stomach fills with butterflies.

Now it’s starting to dawn on him that this is actually happening. He’s got his mouth on Minho. He’s going to blow him. He’s going to, hopefully, make him come. He’s almost overcome by the sudden desire to laugh. He had not expected the evening to end like this.

Hand shaking slightly, Jisung jerks Minho off in a slow motion and ducks his head to mouth at his balls, a shiver running through him when Minho’s hips jerk up from the mattress.

“Bug,” Minho breathes out, and then there’s a hand at the back of Jisung’s neck, applying the barest hint of pressure. But Jisung takes the hint.

He shifts back up, wrapping his lips around the tip again. But this time he sinks down further, breathing deep through his nose as he takes Minho into his mouth. And Jisung can’t help but hum happily. Minho is a heavy heat against his tongue, smooth and slick against his lips when he starts to bob his head in a steady rhythm, cheeks hollowing as he sucks.

After what could have been seconds, minutes, hours, Jisung relaxes his jaw and slides down, down, down until he can feel the tip of Minho’s dick at the back of his throat. Minho’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging in a sudden, sharp, perfect, motion.

“Oh, fuck,” Minho whispers when Jisung moans around him. “Fuck. You’re doing so good, jagi.”

Jisung whimpers, and his entire face blooms with heat seconds later. He pulls off with a wet pop, resting his cheek against Minho’s thigh as he catches his breath. Jagi. It’s not anything new. Minho calls him that all the time. But in this instance, with his hands on him, with his skin against Jisung’s, it feels different. It feels good.

“Jisung?”

He looks up, makes eye contact with Minho. “Hm?”

Minho’s expression is soft, his face flushed. “Are you okay?”

Jisung nods quickly, swallowing. “Am I…does it…is it good?” He needs to know, needs to make sure that Minho feels good. That he likes this.

Minho’s hand comes to rest against his cheek. “It’s good. Of course it’s good. Are you…do you want to keep going? We can stop. We can-” He cuts off when Jisung moves to press his lips to his inner thigh.

“Don’t wanna stop,” Jisung whispers into Minho’s skin. “I like it.”

“Okay. That’s…okay.”

Jisung doesn’t waste any time getting back to it, sliding his tongue from base to tip before sucking Minho back into his mouth, desperate to taste him again. He loves the way Minho’s dick feels in his mouth, loves the way it stretches his lips, loves the way it sounds moving across his tongue.

Jisung’s hips start to twitch, start to chase the friction against the mattress in small circles, and Minho must see, because he moans again.

“Does it feel good, bug? You like it that much?”

Jisung nods as best he can, trying to get Minho deeper. He’s so close to taking all of him. He knows he can do it. He knows he can be good. 

“You’re almost there,” Minho murmurs, as if reading Jisung’s mind, as if he’s waiting for the same thing. “You’re doing so good. Making me feel so good. But you can take more, yeah? You can take it all. Let hyung help.” His hands cradle Jisung’s head. “Pinch me if you need to, bug.” And then his hips are rocking upward, a slow, careful motion.

Humming, Jisung’s eyes flutter shut, and he takes a deep breath through his nose as Minho starts to press his head down. He can do this. He can. He wants to. He wants to feel Minho everywhere.

Minho continues his thrusts, slow and steady, and when Jisung feels his nose touch skin, they both moan. “Shit, jagi, oh my god.” He holds Jisung there for a beat, and then, much to Jisung’s disappointment, uses his grip to pull Jisung off of him. “Breathe.”

Jisung, only now realizing how lightheaded he is, takes a deep breath through his mouth, blinking rapidly until his vision clears. He tries to dive back down, tries to continue, but Minho keeps him in place.

“We have all night, bug.”

Jiusng gapes. “Is it really gonna take all night?”

Minho’s laugh is loud, almost a cackle, and he pats Jisung on the cheek before sitting up. And now that he’s closer, Jisung can see the way his hair is sticky with sweat, and the slight redness to his ears. “Let’s re-arrange,” is all he says, and he’s moving to pull off his sweatshirt. “I’m overheating, and my legs are cramping.”

“Old man,” Jisung teases, but then he goes quiet, eyes locked on the smooth expanse of Minho’s chest and stomach. Minho rarely goes shirtless, not even at the pool, always so self-conscious of a small scar across his ribs. He’s searching for it when Minho scoots to the edge of the bed, standing to kick off his sweatpants the rest of the way. And when he moves to get back on the bed, Jisung stops him.

He moves, instead, slipping off the bed to kneel in front of Minho, palms resting against his thighs. “Like this,” he murmurs, and this close, he can spot the scar, so thin, stretching across  Minho’s side.

Jisung lets his fingers trail over it, his touch gentle. He can’t quite bring himself to meet Minho’s eyes yet, so he focuses his attention elsewhere, fingers circling the base of his dick. It's wet with his spit, and Jisung moves forward, smiling a bit when Minho gasps as he rubs the head over his lips.

He finally peers up at Minho, locking eyes before he sticks out his tongue, slapping Minho’s dick against it.

Minho blinks down at him, eyes wide. “I’m dead, right? I died at the party after watching Seungmin stuff his mouth with marshmallows. I’m dead and in…” He shakes his head. “Could be heaven or hell, to be honest.”

Jisung smiles. Sometimes Minho rambles, and Jisung doesn’t follow his train of thought. But he likes it anyway. “Want you to fuck my face, hyung.”

“Heaven, then,” Minho says, and his hands come up to trail over Jisung’s jaw. “Are you sure?

Jisung nods, moving his hands to Minho’s hips to steady himself. “Please.”

Minho grips the hair at the back of Jisung’s neck, tugging slightly to tilt Jisung’s face up. “I can’t deny you anything,” he murmurs, and then he’s feeding his dick into Jisung’s mouth. “Remember, pinch me.”

This time, Minho doesn’t go slowly. His dick slides across Jisung’s tongue with a slick sound that makes Jisung’s face burn. He’s making noise, too, is vaguely aware of the small sounds escaping him. There’s drool dripping down his chin, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the feel of Minho’s dick filling his mouth. 

He grips Minho’s hips tighter, pulls, and Minho understands, his hands cradling Jisung’s head as he somehow goes even deeper, the head of his dick hitting the back of Jisung’s throat with each thrust. Only then does he start to slow, switching to smaller, jerkier thrusts, and the moan he lets out is breathy with awe when Jisung’s lips meet the skin of his stomach.

“That feels so good,” he says, seeming to get the hint that Jisung likes reassurance, likes praise. “Your mouth, so fucking good.”

Jisung blinks his eyes open, vision blurry, but his gaze meets Minho’s, and he swallows.

Minho’s pupils are blown, and his hips stutter forward. “Look at you,” he breathes out, pulling out a bit before thrusting back in. “So pretty. So pretty letting hyung use you like this.” He resumes his faster thrusts, eyes never leaving Jisung’s.

Blinking slowly, Jisung keeps breathing, keeps his mouth slack. Minho must be close. Jisung thinks he can feel him shaking beneath his hands. Excited, eager, Jisung slides his hands to Minho’s ass, intending to pull him closer, but he’s quickly distracted, simply squeezing instead. He can’t help it when a hand slides further down, fingers teasing over his rim.

Minho grunts, surprised, and then he’s pulling Jisung off of him again.

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, eyes trained on where Minho has a death grip at the base of his dick, clearly keeping himself from finishing. “That’s cheating!”

Minho chuckles. “Pretty sure the finger you were about to put up my ass was also cheating, bug. Thought you were gonna make me come just from a blowjob?”

Jisung just whines again, and Minho coos down at him, his fingers brushing over Jisung’s chin, smearing the spit there.

“Messy,” Minho murmurs, and then his fingers are in Jisung’s mouth, dragging over his tongue.

Jisung sucks them in deeper, bobs his head a few times before pulling away. Minho is right. He has a job to finish.

He stands on shaky legs, and Minho reaches out to steady him, his gaze darting over him, which causes Jisung to do the same. Minho is right, he is messy, the collar of his sweatshirt damp with spit and drool. Grimacing, Jisung shucks it off, along with his t-shirt.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Minho says, and when Jisung looks up, confused, he sees Minho staring at his chest, and then lower, where Jisung is obviously hard in his pants.

Embarrassed but pleased at the attention, Jisung moves back over to the bed, climbing onto it before positioning himself on his back. He lets his head hang over the edge of the mattress, neck on display, his arms reaching out for Minho behind him, which is a difficult task when he can’t see him. But Minho steps forward, legs coming into view.

“Wanna do it like this,” Jisung tells him. “Want you to see how big you are in my throat.”

“What the fuck,” Minho whispers, seemingly to himself, but he allows Jisung to guide him forward. “I’m definitely dead.”

Jisung opens his mouth, humming happily when Minho slowly guides his dick between his lips. He shuts his eyes, gives in to that floaty feeling that is growing heavier and heavier in his brain with each passing moment.

Minho’s first thrust is gentle, cautious, and Jisung swallows around the length of him. “Oh,” Minho breathes out, and suddenly there are fingers on his throat, skimming across skin. He thrusts in again, and Jisung can feel him in his throat, wishes he could see, too.

Thinking about what it must look like, how his neck must bulge with each of Minho’s thrusts, Jisung squirms, unable to resist touching himself any longer. He gets a hand down the front of his pants, and when he finally, finally, gets some pressure on his dick, he can’t help but whine.

“Jisung,” Minho pants, and his other hand comes to rest on his chest, gripping. “That’s so hot. Keep…don’t stop.”

Jisung isn’t sure he’d be able to stop even if he was asked. He jerks himself off with an almost aggressive quickness, already feeling so close.

Minho’s breathing is loud, and his fingers keep running up and down Jisung’s neck. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, bug, I think I’m-” He thrusts a bit harder, and Jisung squirms even more, moving his own hand faster over his dick, twisting his wrist closer to the tip the way he likes.

A few more jerks of his hand, and Jisung whimpers, hips arching off the mattress as he comes all over his stomach, his toes curling against the bedsheets.

“Fuck.” Minho’s voice cracks over the word, sounding wrecked, and through the haze of his own orgasm, Jisung again wishes he could see, because then Minho thrusts into his throat two more times before he’s suddenly pulling out. In the following seconds, there’s a wet warmth against Jisung’s cheeks, his mouth, his chin. He wants it everywhere.

Minho curses softly somewhere above him, a sound Jisung can barely hear over his own ragged breathing. Gentle hands lift and push until Jisung is no longer hanging off the bed, and then there are warm fingers against his cheek.

“Stay still,” Minho murmurs. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

Jisung tries to give a response, but his limbs feel heavy, a sharp contrast to how floaty and light his mind feels. He focuses on his breathing while Minho slips out of the room, and does his best to do what Minho said and keep from moving.

It feels like a long time, when in reality it's probably only seconds, until Minho returns, the sound of the door closing softly followed by footsteps.

“Your face first, okay?” Minho’s hand is gentle against his cheek, and then a warm washcloth follows, swiping gently across his eyes, the bridge of his nose, and then his mouth and chin. “Now your stomach…”

Jisung blinks his eyes open, and everything is a little hazy. But he focuses on Minho, who is wiping slowly at his stomach. He pauses a moment before running the washcloth over Jisung’s dick, apologizing when Jisung makes a soft sound, and then tucks him back into his pants.

When Minho finally looks up at him, he seems…Jisung can’t quite tell. Unsure? In shock?

“Was…” Jisung clears his throat. “Was it good?” Was I good? is what he really wants to ask.

Minho’s expression softens, and he shifts on the bed, hovering over Jisung, their faces aligned. “Of course it was. You were perfect.” He reaches out, seeming to hesitate for a moment before brushing a strand of hair from Jisung’s forehead. “You’re always perfect,” he murmurs.

Jisung’s breath hitches, and it’s like his entire chest fills with a tingling warmth. Even his toes are tingling. He feels like he could laugh. Or cry. Or melt right through the mattress onto the floor until he’s nothing but a puddle. He reaches for Minho instead in an attempt to ground himself, arms curling gently around Minho’s shoulders. 

The movement brings Minho slightly closer, and Jisung can see the sweat lining his temples, the redness of his lower lip from where he’d been biting at it earlier. Pretty.

“Hyung,” he sighs out. “Kiss me.”

Jisung wants to blame the request on how clingy he always tends to be after sex. But a part of him knows that he just wants to kiss Minho. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted something so much.

Minho’s eyes dart across his face, and when his gaze finally lands on Jisung’s mouth, Jisung closes his eyes, tipping his face up. 

Minho’s lips brush over his, barely even a kiss, but it’s still enough to make Jisung’s heart jump in his chest. Now he’s worried he’ll float right off the bed until he hits the ceiling. He feels detached from his body, head spinning in the best way.

He pushes up, just slightly, just enough to press his mouth more firmly against Minho’s. He feels Minho’s breath across his face, feels his slight hesitation before he kisses Jisung with more intent, lips sliding against his in an easy, slow rhythm. 

Jisung shivers, and he slides his palms down Minho’s shoulders, resisting the urge to dig his fingers in and pull him even closer. How is it that this feels more intimate than what they’d done just minutes ago? Jisung can’t explain it, but it’s true. This, kissing Minho, being kissed by Minho, has his face heating, his stomach swooping with butterflies, and he wants more.

He parts his lips, breath catching when Minho’s tongue slips into his mouth. Jisung whimpers, actually whimpers, and he pushes his tongue forward to meet Minho in a messy kiss that seems to last for hours. Perfect, it’s perfect. But when Jisung bites at Minho’s lower lip with a moan and attempts to pull him closer, Minho shifts, breaking the kiss.

Jisung, dizzy with arousal,  tries to follow him, tries to kiss him again, but Minho puts a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay, and that is enough to snap Jisung out of the moment.

Embarrassment floods him in a violent rush, and when he catches Minho’s eye and sees the apprehension there, the…the what? The regret? The pity? Jisung can’t tell what the expression is that’s spreading across Minho’s face,  but it makes panic build in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

He’d gotten too into it, had forgotten to play it cool. Minho must know now, must suspect that Jisung likes him. That’s why he stopped. To keep things from progressing. To let Jisung down easy. To tell him, just like he told Hyunjin, that things like this can’t ever work between friends.

Because that’s how Minho sees him. As a friend.

“Jisung…” Minho’s voice is gentle, careful, pitying, and Jisung’s panic grows, spreading through his entire body.

“That was dumb,” Jisung blurts out, hoping he can still salvage the situation. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. I’m-”

Minho shakes his head, shifts his hand to cup Jisung’s face. Still so gentle, despite the awkwardness practically radiating from him. “No, Jisung, listen, I need to…there’s something I-”

“You don’t have to say anything!” Jisung interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear Minho reject him. Doesn’t want to have a conversation about how Minho doesn’t feel the same. That he was simply entertaining Jisung’s request. A thank you, maybe, for getting him off. Nothing more. Never anything more. “I know that was dumb,” he continues in a rush, attempting a laugh. “I mean, it wasn’t part of the dare.”

Minho blinks. Once. Twice. A third time. “The dare?” He sounds confused, caught off guard, but it breaks some of the awkwardness hanging in the air, so Jisung runs with it.

“You know, Seungmin dared me to…” He trails off slowly when Minho’s expression shutters. “And uhm, we did that, so I didn’t mean to…” He stops again when Minho pulls his hand away, moving up and off of Jisung quickly.

“Right,” he says, turning to perch on the side of the bed, his face hidden from Jisung’s view. “Right.” His fingers are clenched into the fabric of his sweatpants, and his back is rigid.

“Hyung?” Jisung prompts softly, suddenly feeling like he’s done something wrong, but not knowing what. He sits up slowly, still feeling slightly out of it and trying to force himself to focus. “Hyung?” He tries again, and when his hand rests on Minho’s shoulder, Minho jerks away, moving to stand, still not looking at him.

Jisung holds his breath, watching the way Minho’s shoulders rise and fall with a growing sense of trepidation.

“You should go.” The words are clipped, to the point, and Jisung feels knocked off balance.

“I...but you said I could stay?”

Minho bends down, grabbing his shirt and throwing it on, still not making eye contact. “I’m not feeling well. And…and I forgot I have to get up early.”

Jisung almost laughs at how bad of a lie that is, but his throat is tight. Is it because he said it was a dare? Does Minho think that Jisung hadn’t actually wanted to? That he felt forced?

“Hyung.” Jisung stands, legs wobbly. “Wait. I…I didn’t mean that I didn’t like what we did. I just meant that…that I got carried away, that’s all. But it doesn’t…it’s fine. We can…we can finish the documentary and go to bed and -”

“Jisung!” Minho whirls around, and oh, he’s angry. “I don’t want to finish the documentary, okay? I want you to go home!”

Tears well up in his eyes almost instantly, and Jisung fights to keep his lip from trembling. “I just meant it’s not a big deal,” he scrambles to explain. “That…that nothing’s changed and…we can pretend like -”

“Like what? Like it didn’t happen?” Minho takes a step towards him, expression tight. “Fine. You’re right. It didn’t happen. Nothing happened. You never felt sick, you never came up here. I never checked on you, I never invited you to stay, and we never did whatever the fuck that was! So just go home!”

A sob works its way out of Jisung’s mouth before he can stop it, and Minho flinches back, one of his hands coming up as if to reach for Jisung. But it never makes contact, Minho jerking it back to his side, his jaw working.

“Go home, Jisung,” he repeats, his voice quieter, but no less angry. And then he’s moving past him, throwing the door open and disappearing down the hall. A door slams seconds later, and water starts to run.

Jisung blinks at where Minho had been standing moments ago, the room spinning. There’s static blocking his ears, and he thinks he might be crying, his cheeks wet. Or maybe it’s sweat. He’s overheated and freezing all at the same time.

He looks around for his shirt, but everything is blurry. He spots Minho’s sweatshirt first. He grabs for it, just wanting to get out. He’s just pulling his head through when there’s a sound at the door, and he turns to see Hyunjin standing there, worry written across his face.

“Jisungie?” he asks. “Are you okay? I heard yelling and-”

“Fine,” Jisung says, his voice raspy. How had he forgotten Hyunjin lives here, too? How much had he heard? “I’m…fine. Just a stupid fight.”

“You’re crying,” Hyunjin says, and he grabs at Jisung’s arm when he tries to shove past him. “Hey, no, stay. You shouldn’t-”

“I have to go,” Jisung insists. “You should check on Minho.”

Hyunjin calls his name again, but Jisung rushes down the stairs, panic still creeping up his throat. He puts on what he’s about 80% sure are his shoes, and then flings the front door open.

And he runs.

His place is a few blocks away. Two miles at most. He runs the whole way. It’s better, easier, to focus on the way his legs ache, the way his chest fights to catch his breath. He’d rather feel that, than what he felt when Minho had yelled. Or when he’d looked at him with nothing but anger. Jisung doesn’t know what he did. He doesn't know where everything went wrong. He can’t think about it. He’ll fall apart. He feels like he's falling apart.

Everything feels like it's burning by the time he makes it to his apartment. His hands shake as he unlocks the door, and he’s praying that Seungmin is over at Changbin’s, that no one is home so he can be alone.

But of course that would be too easy.

“There you are,” Seungmin says from the couch, Changbin cuddled up beside him. “Minho texted asking to let him know when you got home. I thought you were staying over?”

Jisung opens his mouth to respond, meaning to give some kind of quick answer like he just wanted to be in his own bed, or that Minho wasn’t feeling well and wanted to be alone, but his mouth just hangs open, and he’s horrified to feel his lower lip tremble.

“Jisung?” Changbin sits up a little straighter, brows furrowing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jisung can only shake his head, his vision blurring. Changbin pauses the show and stands to walk over to him, and by the time he reaches him, tears are streaming down Jisung’s face. 

Changbin pulls him into a hug, and Jisung catches sight of Seungmin over his shoulder, concern and confusion written across his face, making Jisung feel silly.

“What happened?” Changbin asks, and Jisung just keeps shaking his head.

“I messed up,” he finally manages to choke out. “I think really messed up.”